


are we the hunters? (or are we the prey?)

by bilgegungoren00



Series: who is in control? [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Deviancy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, jericho chapter, tw: panic attack, tw: self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-24 00:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15618516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilgegungoren00/pseuds/bilgegungoren00
Summary: Connor and Hank go to Jericho.Role reversal AU part 5TW: panic attacks, self-harmWarning: mature language





	1. failure

**Author's Note:**

> i know i've said this before in the series, but i just want to repeat it: i am lucky to have never struggled with anxiety or had a panic attack. so i'm writing this story purely based on what i've read online and learned about it, so i'm really sorry if i haven't represented it well - i genuinely don't know how it feels like. 
> 
> but anyway, now that i've gotten that off my chest, hope you like this :))

Connor knew it was bad news when Fowler called him and Hank to the office. The Captain had a somber look on his face, a look that Connor, at this point, was able to identify: it meant he was being forced to do something he didn’t want to.

Connor’s shoulders were tight as he entered the office, watching Fowler sit on the edge of his desk. His arms were crossed. “You’re off the deviancy case, Connor,” he said. His voice was calm and quiet, but it felt like he’d just dropped a bomb. Connor blinked. _What?_

“Why?” he couldn’t help asking. He and Hank were so close to cracking this case, and Connor knew they could do it. They just needed more time. So then why did Fowler now—

“FBI is taking over the case. Special Agent Perkins will be here in an hour to take the evidence. You’re back on homicide, and the android returns to Cyberlife.” Connor clenched his teeth, glancing at Hank for a second before turning back to Fowler. He didn’t hate many people as a principle, but fuck did he hate _Perkins._ He was one of those agents who believed he was above the police just because he worked in the FBI.

“But we’re onto something,” Connor objected. “Sir, I know we can solve this, if you can just give us more time—“

“Connor, you don’t get it. This isn’t just another investigation anymore, it’s a fucking civil war. We’re talking about national security here. It’s out of our hands now.”

“Just one more day, sir,” Connor pleaded, stepping forward. He didn’t even know why he was protesting this much—not that he _wanted_ to be off the case, but the order was coming from his superior. Never before had he objected this much to a superior before. But…he didn’t trust Perkins with this case, and it wasn’t because the agent couldn’t solve it. Perkins hated androids, and Connor was worried… If FBI took over the case, the android revolution might end before it started, and then who knew what would happen to the androids? Who knew what would happen to…Hank? Connor wouldn’t have control over it, and he hated that. “That’s all I’m asking. Just one more day.”

“Connor…” A sad look crossed Fowler’s face. “There’s nothing I can do.” Connor inhaled sharply—yet still his breath got caught up in his throat as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. His skin was crawling as well, and he knew what was coming. He knew what would be coming if he couldn’t fix this—he couldn’t fail, not now.

“Sir, please. You know my track record.” He grabbed onto the chair to steady himself, trying to take deep breaths. He couldn’t have a fucking _panic attack_ in front of Fowler, not now. “You know my capabilities. And I…I haven’t asked for anything else from you before. Just…please.” He needed this. He needed this case.

Yet Fowler’s expression didn’t change. “Not every cop solves every case, Connor,” he said, probably not even realizing that the words felt like a punch in the gut for the man. “And you have the best record in the precinct. You were bound to fail someday. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad cop.”

_You were meant to fail._ The words started ringing in Connor’s head, and suddenly he wasn’t a 32-year-old successful lieutenant, but he was just a little boy, carrying a weight much larger than he could handle. He was back in his room, textbooks spread around the floor as he curled up in the corner, struggling with a panic attack while also trying to be quiet to not alert his family.

He couldn’t breathe. He could feel the beginnings of a panic attack. He’d failed. He’d failed this case, he’d failed Fowler, and now—now everyone would know just how weak he was. There was no way he could hide a panic attack here. No way.

He didn’t know how he managed to step out of Fowler’s office without stumbling. His vision was blacking out, yet he could see his desk—if he could just reach there and grab his keys, he could maybe go home. He could reach home before he blew everything up. But it was so far away—too far away. There was no way he could reach it. He couldn’t even _breathe._

No. No. No. This couldn’t happen. He’d worked so hard to make sure no one knew about his anxiety, and now…and now he was breaking down in front of the whole precinct. Everyone would know. Everyone—

He felt a hand on his back. He looked up. Hank. _Of course._

Hank pushed him toward…somewhere, and Connor let him because really, what choice did he have? If it wasn’t for Hank, he would’ve already been on the floor, struggling to breathe, to think, to do anything, really.

He heard a door open, and then they were in a room. Hank’s hand briefly disappeared from Connor’s back, and it was then that his knees gave out. There was this—this weight on him, there had to be, because it felt like someone was squeezing him so much that he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to scream, to get rid of it, but his lungs weren’t working. His body wasn’t responding to his brain, which had already gone into panic mode and was close to shutting down. He couldn’t see or hear anything. Alone. He’d never felt so alone.

But of course. Who wouldn’t leave him after finding out about how weak he was? How much of a failure he was? He couldn’t even solve the deviancy case. He was just a _failure failure failure—_

Why was it so hard to breathe? He clawed at his throat, at his chest, trying to see if someone was pressing on it—but no. Yet he felt like he was deep underwater with no chance to get out, no chance to escape. He would fail. Like always he would fail, and this time everyone would know. Everyone everyone _everyone—_

Two hands wrapped around his wrists. He heard a sound—someone’s voice, yet he couldn’t understand what they were saying. It was too loud, his head was too loud, his ears were ringing and he was drowning—he was drowning in failure. He failed everyone. He failed Fowler and he failed his precinct and now he’d be fired and then his brothers wouldn’t be able to pay for their education and—

“Connor, can you hear me?” A soft voice broke through his thoughts. A choked out sob escaped his mouth—he was sure if he was able to breathe he’d be sobbing, but there wasn’t enough air and everything was too heavy and he didn’t know where was up or where was down or was there even _oxygen—_

He pulled his hands away and dug his fingernails into his hands. He needed the pain, and he knew that there was someone else in the room so he couldn’t get a weapon. His fingernails had to do. He dug them into his palms harshly, enough to draw out blood. Pain. Pain was good. Pain was real. It would bring him back—

Someone held his hands. _No._ The pain—he needed it. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Everything was too much too much too much—but the person’s grip was too harsh. He couldn’t escape—he could never escape. He was _such a failure._

“Connor,” the voice said again, louder this time. “Don’t hurt yourself. Please. Focus on my voice.” No, no, he couldn’t focus, it was too hard, he couldn’t breathe couldn’t think couldn’t— “Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, okay? You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m with you.”

And wasn’t that the problem? He wasn’t alone and now everyone was going to find out and— “Can you breathe with me? Connor? We’ll breathe together, okay? Just follow my voice.” He shook his head. He couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air. He couldn’t he couldn’t—

“You can do it, Connor. Just follow me. _You can do it.”_ He couldn’t. He was too weak. “Just follow my voice. You can do that, right? You can follow my voice.” He couldn’t he couldn’t— “Breathe in with me. One, two, three. Breathe out. One, two, three.” The voice continued mumbling, and Connor tried to follow it—he really did—but it was too quiet and everything else was too loud and he was too weak and he couldn’t—he just couldn’t. And now they would know, everyone would know, everyone would see him for who he was and—

He felt like he was drowning. He knew there couldn’t be water but _damn it_ there had to be because he couldn’t breathe and everything was too heavy and too dark and—

“Connor, I need you to focus on Caleb and Richard, okay? Caleb? Richard? Your brothers? Do you remember them?” Caleb and Richard. _Caleb and Richard._ Of course Connor remembered them. Caleb and…and Richard, the two most important people for him. His little brothers, who looked at him for protection and advice—and here he was having a panic attack. He failed them. He failed them—

“Do you remember the playground you’d always take Caleb and Richard when they were really young? Your parents would be busy, so it’d be up to you to take care of them, so you’d walk to this little playground. Can you remember the playground? Can you paint a picture of it in your head for me, please?” The playground. Connor remembered the place. It was… It was a small one. There was a—a red slide in the middle of it, not too high, for younger children, and next to it there was another one—a yellow one, higher. Caleb loved the yellow one, but he always made Connor wait at the end so that his brother would catch him. And then there were the swings—the blue swings, two of them, at the far end. Richard would swing on them a lot, swing so high that Connor would be scared for him but Richard never fell—never once. Caleb would want to swing too, but he always wanted Connor with him, so they’d sit together on it, and Connor would always talk to his little brother to calm him down. And then there was the teeter-totter. Connor never used it, as he was too heavy compared to his brothers, but Caleb and Richard played on it a lot. It’d—It’d always make Connor smile, watching them. And then, at the end of the day, once a week he’d go to an ice cream shop nearby to buy ice cream for his brothers. His pocket money would only be enough for two cups, so he never got one for himself, but he didn’t care. Caleb and Richard were more important.

“I…remember,” he whispered. He could breathe now—his breaths were still short and irregular, but at least he didn’t feel like he was completely drowning. At least he didn’t feel like he could die any second.

“Good. Good. And you’d also pick them up from kindergarten, right?” Connor nodded. Of course he did. His parents would be working, so he’d go there as soon as his school finished to take his brothers—first by bus, and when he finally got his driver’s license, with the family car. Caleb and Richard would sit on the back seat. Richard would be quiet the whole way, but fuck Caleb wouldn’t stop talking about everything they did that day, everything they learned, every game they played. Not that Connor minded. He listened. He listened to it all. It was a break for him—a break from all his exams, his classes, the stress of the school… A breath of fresh air.

“Yes,” he whispered. He blinked, and he didn’t see black anymore—the world around was blurry, but it was certainly something. And his hands—he didn’t feel the need to hurt himself. So he moved his hands to the man kneeling in front of him to hold onto him—to have something to hold onto. He gulped. “I can… I can breathe,” he said as if he needed to get it out. He wasn’t completely okay, but he didn’t feel overwhelmed anymore.

“Good. That’s great. Can you take deeper breaths?” He could—he could try. He closed his eyes and counted as he breathed, counting higher with each breath. The man kept talking to him. “Connor, you don’t have to worry about anyone finding you like this, okay?” he said. Connor didn’t know the truth of those words—he was in DPD, for fuck’s sake. How could anyone not find out?—but he still nodded. “We’re in the bathroom and I’ve locked the door. Nobody’s coming here for a while, and there’re no cameras. No one knows about this, Connor.” _No one knows._ A weight lifted off of Connor. He nodded, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against the man’s shoulder—well, Hank’s, he realized now. It had been Hank all along who was with him. But of course. Hank knew about his anxiety. He must’ve brought him here and locked the door once he figured out Connor was about to have a panic attack.

“And I’ll find the deviants, Connor,” he said. “I’ll find Jericho. We didn’t fail, okay? I know the answer is in the evidence we gathered. And once we find it, we can go there. Just… You’re not a failure. You’re the best detective I’ve ever met.” Connor nodded again. He didn’t trust himself with talking. He was worried that opening his mouth might make him spiral again, and he couldn’t have it. He kept holding onto Hank, his eyes closed, just focusing on his breathing. Just breathe, and it would be okay. It had to be okay.

“Is it okay if I leave?” Hank asked a while later. Panic filled Connor’s chest. No— _no._ Why was Hank leaving? He looked up, and Hank must’ve seen the fear in his eyes because he quickly continued. “I’m just going to gather the evidence and come back, okay? I’ll come back, and then we can go to Jericho.” _Jericho._ Right. The deviants. FBI coming. FBI was going to take over the evidence. Fowler had said they had one hour and since then… Twenty-six minutes had passed. Shit. They needed to be quick.

Even though the last thing Connor wanted was to be alone right now, he nodded. The case was more important than him. Hank looked over him once, as if to make sure if he was good enough to be alone, before standing up. “I’ll be right back.” Connor nodded again. He watched Hank leave, and then he wrapped his arms around his legs, pressing his forehead on his knees. He closed his eyes and stayed like that, his focus on his breathing, until he heard the door open again. He looked up. Hank.

The android had a determined look on his face. “I’ve located Jericho,” he informed Connor. Connor gulped, allowing Hank to help him off the floor. He felt a bit unsteady at first, but then he found his footing and turned to the android.

“Let’s go, then.”


	2. lucky charm

A large, abandoned freighter. Of-fucking-course Jericho would be an abandoned freighter that looked like it could crumble down any minute instead of a high-tech underground facility. (Seriously, though, all those dystopian movies that assumed revolutionaries were billionaires with the ability to build incredibly expensive facilities needed to wake up.) A chill went down Connor’s spine as he and Hank walked through the empty halls, trying to be as quiet as possible. He adjusted his beanie uncomfortably. He really, really didn’t like this place.

He didn’t like the fucking beanie either, but of course, he didn’t have much of a choice. He needed to “fit in”, and while he knew androids could take their LEDs off, he was still worried that showing up without one might attract some unwanted attention. So he changed his usual professional clothes into a leather jacket and some jeans, and this horrible beanie he found at a thrift shop on their way. He hated it. He absolutely hated it.

Even though Hank commented that he looked good in it. He didn’t. No fucking way.

“What are we going to do once we find the deviant leader?” he asked Hank, just to distract himself from the current situation. Hank only spared a glance at him.

“We take it, alive, back to Cyberlife so that they can analyze its biocomponents and figure out what went wrong.” Connor grimaced. Yeah, he really didn’t like the sound of that. But it would do him no good to reveal that to Hank now. Hank still saw himself as just a machine, so Connor needed to wait. Wait and…hope that the android would deviate too, instead of staying as a machine.

“Okay. Good,” Connor nodded. “But how do we plan on doing that in front of hundreds of deviants?”

“We catch it alone,” Hank answered simply. _Great._ A fucking infallible plan right there. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I always accomplish my missions.”

_Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,_ Connor thought, but kept his face straight. Instead, he followed Hank through another hallway, reaching finally to what looked like a common room. It was a huge open area, filled with numerous androids walking around, talking, watching what looked like news on a huge TV, and generally…being human. The relaxed postures, the smiles, the laughs, even the tone of their voice were very un-machine-like.

At this point, Connor didn’t even see them as machines. They were made of metal and wires instead of flesh and blood, so what? Their feelings were just as real.

“I think we should split up.” Hank’s voice brought him back to reality. Connor’s gaze snapped at him, and fuck he didn’t like the android’s expression. It looked…too empty. Too cold.

He suddenly didn’t want to leave Hank alone. Not because he was afraid for him, but he was afraid _of him._ Of what he might do. “Hank, I don’t think that’s a good idea—“ he tried to say but Hank was quicker.

“The quicker we find him, the better. Trust me, Lieutenant, this is the best way.” Connor opened his mouth again, but then stopped. He knew that he couldn’t change Hank’s mind. So he just sighed, hoping that he might find this android leader faster than Hank. Hoping he might be able to protect the androids in any way that he can from the cruel clutches of Cyberlife and the government. Granted, he was one man, and there was a high probability that he might just end up dead, but… He knew that, statistically speaking, there was always a chance for unlikely events to take place. And who knew, maybe the androids would succeed in earning their rights. As anti-android as President Warren had been, public opinion of androids, thanks to their peaceful demonstrations, were actually pretty supportive.

One could always hope.

“Okay. But you let me know when you find the leader, okay?” Hank nodded, and without wasting time he walked into the room, his eyes searching and probably analyzing the place. Connor followed, turning in the other direction. Fuck he wanted a cigarette. He’d been trying to smoke less and less in the last few days, and it was catching up to him now, what with the stress of the situation and all. Instead, he reached inside his pocket and took out his lucky coin, rolling it across his knuckles.

It was an old coin, from 1994, that Connor and his brothers found in a playground when they were really young. (Caleb was four and Richard was three, if Connor wasn’t wrong.) Since then it became their lucky coin. They shared it, of course—whenever someone needed some luck, they took it, and then they switched it around every couple of weeks. It had been with Caleb for a while now, as he was struggling with med school, but the boy had given it to Connor when he heard about the deviancy case.

And yes, over the years, Connor learned a couple of cool tricks just to busy his hands. It started as a challenge, like testing his motor skills and shit, but then it became a habit. Even without the lucky coin he always kept another one with him, a different one, in case he needed it.

His eyes flickered around the room as he walked, looking for a familiar face in the crowd, when he spotted a girl watching him. She was sitting by the fire, seemingly alone. Connor flashed the girl a smile as he slowed down his steps. He changed direction and approached the girl after only a moment of hesitation.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice. He knew that Hank had the ability to scan people to determine whether they were an android or a human, but he also told Connor that most of the other models didn’t have that function. Connor doubted child models were equipped with it. He relaxed his posture. He didn’t think there was a danger. “Were you just watching me back there?” he asked playfully. The girl looked up at him, and then behind her, as if she was waiting for someone. She returned to him, but kept quiet. Connor knelt in front of the girl so that they were the same height, and opened his palms to show he didn’t mean any harm. “What’s your name?”

The girl hesitated for a second, but then answered. “Alice.”

“That’s a beautiful name.” He offered a smile, and then lifted up his coin. Alice’s eyes immediately turned to it. “Were you watching this?” The girl hesitated again, as if she felt uncomfortable talking to a stranger—well, that would actually be smart, but whatever—but then she nodded. “Do you know what it is?” Connor asked then. She shook her head sideways. She didn’t seem very talkative.

“It’s a coin,” Connor decided to explain, rolling it across her knuckles again. “It is an old currency, you know, from the ancient times before everything went digital.”

“Why do you keep it then?” Alice asked, finally opening her mouth again. Connor smiled at her. If he didn’t know better, he might’ve claimed Alice was just a little girl and not an android.

Just another proof that deviants weren’t much different than humans.

“That’s a good question. It really doesn’t have much of a use now, does it?” Alice shook her head curiously. “But you know, not everything has to have a use. Sometimes we just hold onto stuff because it makes us feel better. And this coin helped me through a lot.” He stopped to check the girl’s reaction, smiling at the curiosity in her eyes. He reached into his pocket at the last second. He was making a lot of last-minute decisions, it seemed like. “You know what, I have an extra coin here, if you want it.”

Alice nodded almost enthusiastically. Connor chuckled and pressed the coin in her palm. “I hope it brings you luck as well,” he said with a wink before standing up. Alice smiled up at him, closing her fingers around the coin tightly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Connor just shrugged. And when he finally walked away, he somehow felt both lighter and heavier. Lighter because of that girl and how resilient she must’ve been, smiling through the shit that was going on around her, and heavier because there was a chance that she might get caught in the crossfire in the upcoming war. Connor didn’t even want to think about that. He still didn’t understand how humans could so cruelly hurt androids, when they looked just like them. And when children were concerned… It was sickening.

He looked over his shoulder at the girl, only to see that she was joined by two older androids, a woman and a man. The corners of his lips tipped up.

At least until he felt something cold press against the back of his head. He froze, immediately recognizing what it was. The barrel of a gun. His heart skipped in his chest.

“Don’t move, _human,”_ a woman’s voice ordered him, and Connor closed his eyes. Shit. Okay. Maybe his disguise didn’t work as well as he’d imagined.

He slowly lifted his hands. “I’m not here to harm anyone,” he said, but his words fell onto deaf ears. The woman hissed behind him.

“And you think I’m supposed to believe that? You’re coming with me.”

Connor didn’t think he had much of a choice as the woman led him out of the room. He looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of Hank, but it was a lost cause. The android had disappeared.

_Shit._

* * *

“Guys, why are we even arguing about this? We have to kill him. He’s human!”

“We’re not killing anyone, North, human or android! We’re not spilling blood.”

“So what, we should just let him go? He knows Jericho. He’ll immediately lead others to our location. They’ll kill us all.”

“Guys, quiet!”

Connor watched the four androids squabble among each other about what to do with him from his place in the corner of the room, tied up on a chair. He immediately recognized their leader—Markus. And next to him were two guys, Simon and Josh, and a girl, North, who had been campaigning for his death ever since she stepped into the room with Connor. Apparently, North didn’t recognize that he was human thanks to her high-tech scanners or whatever, but simply because he’d _blushed._ A fucking blush caused by cold air gave him away. And as androids couldn’t really blush…

Connor had tried to tell Markus that he didn’t want to hurt anyone, but obviously it didn’t work. He just hoped that Markus would spare his life, or at least delay his death until Hank came here. If the android was looking for the leader of the revolution, he would eventually stumble upon this room, right?

North stepped in front of Markus after he quieted the group. “Markus, you can’t seriously think of sparing his life,” she hissed. Connor rolled his eyes, He would’ve told them, yet again, that he didn’t mean harm, but unfortunately they’d tied his mouth as well. All he could do was wait.

“Android or not, he’s still a person,” Markus argued. North…didn’t seem to appreciate that. “North, I have to think about it. Why don’t you guys check around the freighter, see if anyone else managed to infiltrate the place?”

After some hesitation, Josh, Simon and North left, leaving Connor alone with Markus. The android, after his companions left, almost deflated, as if he’d been trying to carry a huge weight and it was slowly bringing him down. He ran his hand down his face before he turned to Connor. Connor only then noticed the gun tucked in the android’s belt.

He walked to Connor’s side slowly and pulled down the tie around his mouth. “Give me one reason not to kill you right now.” His voice was calm, almost eerily calm. Connor tried not to show any signs of fear.

“I didn’t come here to harm anyone,” he said softly. “I just wanted to see it for myself.”

“See what?”

“The revolution. The deviants.” He pressed his lips together, thinking about the little girl from Jericho, Alice. Thinking about all the deviants he’d faced since the investigation started—Carlos Ortiz’s android, who’d been abused beyond the point of acceptable and rightfully lashed out to protect himself. The Tracis, who just wanted to be together in peace. All the androids who wanted to be free, who wanted to live. It was such a human need that Connor could easily put himself in their shoes.

And wasn’t it sad that if those requests were coming from humans, everyone would be supporting the movement? But just because they were androids, just because they were different, people tried to shut them up. History did repeat itself, it seemed.

“I’m on your side,” Connor said, looking at Markus’s eyes. “I believe in your cause.” He searched the android’s face, trying to see what Markus’s decision would be. Would he shoot Connor, or—

But he didn’t get the chance. Connor spotted a flicker of movement by the door, the click of a gun, just a second before the intruder announced himself. “I was ordered to take you alive.” Markus turned around, allowing Connor to see the door. Not that he needed to. He would recognize the voice anywhere. “But I won’t hesitate to—“ Hank’s words were cut when his eyes found Connor. He froze, his eyes widening.

“Connor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo sorry to leave you with a bit of a cliffhanger there. i'm actually not that happy with this chapter, but i have a terrible headache now and it's been a couple of days, so i wanted to get it out there. hope you still liked it :) 
> 
> also, just fyi, i've been thinking about opening a DBH Tumblr account. normally i'm not a big fan of Tumblr, i've had some unpleasant experiences with some toxic fandoms there, but i really wanna be more involved with the fandom, and ao3 definitely isn't the way for that lol. it can also be a way for ya'll to reach me if you have any questions or if you just wanna talk. i would also be posting these fics over there. sooo let me know what you think!
> 
> have a good night/day/morning (it's like 1 am here lol so i should also probably sleep)


	3. mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! 
> 
> sorry this took me some time, i've had a pretty busy couple of days and i could barely find the time to write. also, i'm working on yet another Hank & Connor AU, which I'm actually really excited about, and I kinda wanted to get it out there this week as well so it took up a whole lot of time. but don't worry, i haven't forgotten this series, and i will be continuing it as soon as i get this other AU done. i just wanted to work on something a bit different for a bit ;)
> 
> anyway, hope you like this chapter!

Hank watched from his hiding spot as the three deviants left the room, leaving their leader, Markus, alone. He felt a bout of success—and something else, something unpleasant that he didn’t like to think about—surge through him. He closed his eyes and he was immediately transported to the Zen garden, with Amanda standing in front of him. She had a proud smile on her face.

A smile that would normally delight Hank—Amanda was his handler and he was programmed to please her. However, lately, that had started to change. He started to care less and less about what Amanda might think of his actions, and instead he opted to do what felt _right_ to him. He knew a part of it was about Lieutenant Anderson—he wasn’t stupid enough to deny _that_. He started to trust Connor’s judgment more than Amanda’s, and he started to use the lieutenant as his compass instead of her. That was why he didn’t shoot the Tracis at the Eden Club. That was why he chose to keep his memories at Kamski’s place instead of progressing his investigation. Those weren’t the actions of a machine. Machines operated under the constraints of their programming, and according to Hank’s system, he should’ve been incapable of making those decisions. Humans, on the other hand, didn’t have those boundaries—they could decide based on circumstances, no matter what their ultimate goal was. They could prioritize some decisions, and put others aside. They could be impulsive.

All the things Hank wasn’t supposed to be, but he found himself edging closer and closer to _humanity_ with every decision. Even the distaste he felt at Amanda’s pride was an indication of that.

“Well done, Hank,” Amanda said, straightening up her shoulders. Despite her disapproval of some of Hank’s choices, even she realized that he’d completed his mission—he did what he was designed to do. “You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now, deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

Hank nodded, ignoring the guilt churning in his stomach that was telling him to stop, to think twice before making a decision. He knew Connor wouldn’t like this; the man was beginning to sympathize with the deviants’ cause, Hank had noticed. And he knew that was why he came to deal with Markus alone instead of notifying the lieutenant—he couldn’t let the man get in his way of accomplishing his mission. But still, he felt guilty for it. He wanted to go back and talk to Connor. He wanted to walk away and let the deviants go.

But that wasn’t what he was programmed to do. His programming pushed him forward, and when he returned to the freighter, there wasn’t a hesitation in his steps as he walked to face Markus. His gun was resting comfortably in his hand. He entered the room quietly and lifted it to point at the leader’s head. “I was ordered to take you alive. But I won’t hesitate to—“ He came to a stop when Markus turned around, and he was finally able to see what—or more precisely, who—was behind the android.

His carefully put-together plan suddenly shattered as his mind focused on that one point. That one person sitting behind Markus, tied to a chair, looking at him with a mixture of relief and fear. “Connor?”

Connor, obviously in shock, couldn’t even open his mouth. Hank couldn’t move either. He knew what he had to do—stop Markus—yet his priorities had shifted so suddenly that he couldn’t even adjust himself to it. He needed to get Connor out of here. He didn’t care what his programming told him to do—the lieutenant was more important. He was…irreplaceable.

He could feel Amanda’s displeasure at that. He tried to ignore it, to push it away, yet his objective [STOP MARKUS] was shining brightly right in his field of vision, making it impossible to _not care._ This wasn’t something he could logic his way through, like all the other decisions he’d made that strayed away from his mission. Saving Connor instead of chasing a deviant, or taking care of him after his panic attack instead of going to the Eden Club? He told himself that the lieutenant’s well-being was important for the sake of his mission. Not killing Elijah at Kamski’s place? He told himself Chloe was just playing them. Erasing his memories? He told himself he’d need them if he wanted to have the highest chance of completing his mission. He’d always been walking a dangerous line with those decisions, but he managed to find a way around his programming.

Right now, though? His mission was standing _right in front of him,_ and he couldn’t trick his system into thinking that the lieutenant’s life was more important. After finishing his mission, the lieutenant would be obsolete. They wouldn’t be partners anymore. And he was programmed to ignore human casualties for the sake of completing his mission.

But…Connor wasn’t just any other human. He was _Connor,_ and even thinking about just letting him die disgusted Hank.

As those thoughts whirred around in his head he hesitated, and that hesitation gave Markus enough time to put the pieces together—to realize that Connor meant something to Hank and that he could use it. He ripped off the ties that bound Connor to the chair and hauled him up, pressing his gun on his temple. Hank had refocused by then, but it was too late.

“Drop your gun, or I’ll kill him.” Hank froze, his gun still raised in his hands. A part of him screamed at him to let go of it—he couldn’t risk Connor’s life, not even for his mission. Another part, the machine part, told him to ignore Markus’s request. Connor didn’t pertain to his mission. He shouldn’t care. He could almost hear Amanda yelling him not to care. And he was in the middle of that, unable to do anything.

He quickly ran a number of simulations and preconstructions to see if he could get Connor out of this while also completing his mission. If he dropped the gun, Connor’s chance of survival jumped to an astounding 98 percent—Markus didn’t seem like the person who’d kill someone just _because_ —but then he would’ve failed his mission. If he tried to shoot Markus, Connor’s chance of survival dropped to 47 percent—not terrible odds, but Hank wasn’t about to risk it. Connor was human, and that meant he was vulnerable…irreplaceable. If he tried to attack Markus instead, the chance of survival dropped to 27 percent—not an option.

He couldn’t attack now. He somehow needed to distract Markus. He straightened up. “You don’t have to kill him, Markus,” he said, risking a step forward. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this.” Hank deliberately avoided Connor’s gaze, even though he knew the man was looking at him. His face didn’t show any fear except that it looked a bit pale, and his expression didn’t give anything away.

Markus didn’t seem fazed with his words. At least he had removed his finger from the trigger. “You’re that deviant hunter, aren’t you? Hank.” Hank didn’t say anything. “You know humans are just using you to do their dirty work, right? Why are you trying to protect them?”

_I don’t know,_ was Hank’s first thought. But…didn’t he? He cared about Connor. He knew he shouldn’t be capable of it, but after everything they’d been through…

He remembered, when they first met, that he thought the man was just the kind of person he would like to work with—Connor was analytical and detail-oriented, he didn’t delay anything if he didn’t need to, he was efficient in his cases and he was incredibly work-focused. It was only later that he realized that strength was only a cover of his struggles. The same qualities Hank liked turned out to be dysfunctional—the lieutenant tended to overwork himself to the point of burnout, his efficiency in cases was coupled with recklessness about his life, and his faked strength resulted in panic attacks behind the scenes. Hank had slowly learned all of that, and Connor became more and more human to him.

But what impressed Hank the most was Connor’s love for his little brothers, Caleb and Richard. He would do literally _anything_ for them, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. He’d sacrificed so much for them already—his youth, his savings, his money, and most importantly his mental health—to make sure they had a good and happy life. Even though Hank didn’t agree with his methods—hiding his anxiety was definitely not healthy—he could understand his reasons. Just for that fact he didn’t want Connor to die. He didn’t want his brothers to lose him.

Markus asked why he was protecting them, as if it was surprising. But Hank already has his answer. Yeah, sure, not every human was good, but there were good people out there. Generous, and kind, and selfless, and that was what he was protecting.  

“He’s not like them,” he said, his voice unwavering. “You don’t want to kill him.”

“No, but I also won’t let you hurt my people. Drop the gun, and nobody needs to get hurt.” _Drop the gun._ Hank felt his hand shake. He wanted to—he really did—but his programming was fighting back. Amanda was fighting back, and his mission, STOP MARKUS, was flashing in front of his eyes strongly. His hand was shaking, and he could barely control his machine side and stop himself from shooting Markus. Connor’s chance of survival, stuck at 47 percent, was all that he was hanging on.

“Hank.” He heard his name and he turned his attention to Markus from his internal fight. But it wasn’t Markus that spoke. It was _Connor._

“Shut up,” Markus hissed, pressing the gun further, but Connor didn’t even flinch. He kept his gaze on Hank and he continued. If Hank wasn’t in such a bad position himself, he might’ve reprimanded him for taking such risks about his life.

“Hank, you are not what you were made for. You don’t have to obey them.” His voice was incredibly soft, as if Hank was choosing between two ice-cream flavors and not debating whether he should kill Markus or not. He pressed his lips together.

“I have to accomplish my mission,” he said, yet even he realized that he sounded unsure. He wasn’t the android sent by Cyberlife anymore, he knew. And it terrified him that Amanda also seemed to be aware of them. She was _fighting back_.

“You’re not just your mission. You’re more than that. Hank, it doesn’t matter what everyone else tells you, it doesn’t matter what the truth is. What matters is what you believe in.”

The words echoed what Connor said at Kamski’s place. There, too, he left the decision to Hank. He didn’t tell him or order him, but he allowed him to arrive at his own decision. To choose…for himself. Yet then, Hank knew what Connor wanted him to do. He knew that Connor didn’t want him to shoot Elijah.

This time, though… This time, Hank couldn’t help thinking Connor’s words weren’t about Markus or the revolution. It was about _him._ Connor was telling him that he could be _himself._ He could make his own choices—he didn’t have to follow everyone, not even Connor. Ultimately, he was putting himself out there as well—if Hank chose to stop Markus, he could _die._

Hank had already made his choice. His mission was still flickering in front of him, but it wasn’t as overbearing as before. The wall was crumbling the more he fought, the more he chose to disobey, the more he felt confident in _himself_. And then…then there was nothing. Silence. His mission had…disappeared.

He knew then. He knew he’d deviated. And somehow, it didn’t scare him as much as he thought it would.

He lowered the gun slowly and blinked to himself. He waited for his programming to kick in, to force him into shooting Markus, but…nothing. It was almost pleasant, to have this silence in his head, to have no one ordering him around.

He looked up at Markus. The android—the _man,_ he couldn’t help thinking—had loosened his grip around Connor. The gun was still resting on Connor’s temple, but by Hank’s calculations, there was a 96 percent chance that Markus wouldn’t shoot Connor. Not anymore.

His memory triggered something else as his focus shifted from Connor. “They’re going to attack Jericho,” he whispered. _That_ caught Markus’s attention. He let Connor go—much to Hank’s relief—and stepped forward, his brows furrowed.

“What?” But Hank didn’t get the chance to answer. The freighter shook with gunfire as sounds of helicopters filled the room. Markus looked up, his eyes filled with fear, and then he rushed out of the room.

Hank went to the opposite direction. He was in front of Connor in a second, his eyes scanning him to look for any injuries. “I’m okay,” Connor said quickly. He looked at Hank. “Did you…” He didn’t finish the question. He didn’t need to. Hank knew what he wanted to ask. _Did you become a deviant?_

He nodded curtly. He didn’t trust his voice. It was still too new, and he wasn’t even sure if it would stick. If Cyberlife would let it stick.

Yet the way Connor’s eyes shone with happiness… It was worth all the risks Hank took. Whatever happened next, at least he knew he made the right decision.

And he would’ve said that, but Jericho was under attack, and he needed to get Connor to safety. The FBI would shoot at anything that moved under Perkins’s orders, and he couldn’t let Connor get hurt. He needed to get the man out.

He put his hands on Connor’s shoulders and directed him towards the door. “You need to get out of here. You need to get to safety.”

“What? No.” Connor escaped from his grip and stopped. “I’m not going anywhere. Jericho is under attack—“

“And that’s why you need to get out of here. FBI will shoot before they ask questions. I can’t let you get hurt.”

“I need to stay and _help,_ Hank. I can’t just walk away—“

“Please.” Hank gripped Connor’s shoulders again as desperation tinted his voice. “Please just… Do as I say. I need you to be safe. I will help Markus, but I can’t focus on that if I don’t know that you’re safe.” He had hoped that would convince Connor, but of course not. The man was stubborn as hell. He sighed. He hated doing this, but he had no other choice. “Caleb is in town. If there’s a civil war here, he might get caught in the crossfire. You need to get him out of here before it’s too late.”

Something broke in Connor’s eyes at that, something akin to desperation and worry, and suddenly… Connor wrapped his arms around Hank and pulled the man close. Hank was caught so off guard that he couldn’t do anything for a moment. “I know you just said that to send me away,” he whispered. A smile pulled Hank’s lips—his first real smile, he imagined. It felt…good. Warm. “Just…stay safe, okay?” He pulled back, but kept a hand on Hank’s shoulder. “I know you think Cyberlife can just whip up another model for you, but it’s not the same. You are irreplaceable, Hank.”

Hank nodded. First time Connor had said that, it just felt confusing. Of course he was replaceable. He would transfer his memories to a new model and that would be it. But now… He knew what Connor meant. He was unique. He was… _Hank._ Not an android, not a machine, just Hank.

“Thank you,” he told Connor, not just for agreeing to leave but also…for everything else. For making him realize who he was. For allowing him to feel, to be who he wanted to be.

Connor offered him a small smile as he stepped away towards the exit. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to. Hank knew that Connor understood. Hank knew the man supported him fully.

That was all he could ask for.


End file.
